It really does. I can barely wrap my mind around what my life has become these past TWO years...yes, it has been OVER two years since diagnosis, surgery, radiation, chemo and vitamin C infusions. Actually just a year since the last 2, but who's counting anyway ;).
I find it a little funny and equally as sad that when life was hard and I was sick, I was able to keep up on this blog...maybe it was because I was home a lot more, maybe it was death staring me in the face, maybe it was because cancer was the only thing (or at least in the top three things) I could think about. Whatever it was, it is gone. I've returned to my "super-human" form and now face the daily battle of living my life with "normal" worries, an improved perspective (constant battle) and remembering this life on Earth is so short and can change forever in an instant.
Let me back up a little bit and tell you how I am doing...FANTASTIC! I've had 2 MRI's since I last posted and the "black hole" in my brain is still an empty black hole. Do not worry...an empty black hole is what we want. Whatever tumor remained after surgery has shrunk into nothing because of the treatment I followed. My doctors know there are still cancer cells in there, but as long as they don't get together and start duplicating and forming another tumor, I get to keep living my incredible life doing just about everything I did before!
I'm still following a vegan diet that I adhere to pretty strictly. I believe in the diet and truly feel it has worked for me. I see my naturopath yearly for blood work and will follow up with him to start Vitamin C infusions again if it becomes necessary (when the tumor grows back.) MRI's are now 4 months apart (started bimonthly) where I see my oncologist. I'm almost weened from my anti-seizure meds and will only be taking natural supplements. PHEW! See? I'm doing pretty great!
Matt and I are training for races and running A LOT and I absolutely LOVE it! We are just getting into the best time of year in Phoenix where I can literally walk out the door at anytime and get my run in. Makes life a lot simpler.
Now that you are caught up on the cancer specifics, I want to announce that I am turning this blog back into my family journal. You don't have to do anything ;), I just wanted to warn you that the cancer posts will be much fewer and farther between because cancer has taken the backseat in my life and I'm focused on my loved ones every minute I've been blessed with. There is a TON I haven't posted so I am going to post one month at a time of the past two years of what I have been doing to celebrate my life on this Earth.
I have a good, good life and can actually say I'm thankful I've been given such an enormous trial. Without it, I know I wouldn't cherish my moments, be picky with what I choose to spend my time doing or have a greater understanding of what this life is about. I've grown in ways that wouldn't be possible without a trial of this magnitude and I know I will be eternally blessed for it.
Although I do not miss laying in bed all day or shuffling down the hallway hunched over to answer the door, I do miss the relationship I had with my Savior during the early days of my diagnosis. I knew He was the only one that could understand my specific pain and struggle because He has already suffered for me. The hours I spent on my knees begging and crying for Him to cure me and then realizing I needed to let His will be done are some of the most sacred feelings and memories I'm sure I'll ever have. Allowing Him to carry me and finally strengthen me was so humbling and at the same time, so comforting, it still brings tears to my eyes when I think of it.
These memories, feelings and most of all knowledge I've gained makes battling terminal brain cancer 100% worth it. This is my life and I've got one chance, whether that be long or short, to make it worth it and that is what I am doing.
Monday, November 3, 2014
Monday, April 7, 2014
I Am a Mormon Monday
My heart is so full from General Conference this past weekend. The talks were so incredible! I feel so blessed to have such a loving Heavenly Father who is so mindful of what I needed to hear. A few weeks ago, a mormon blogger emailed me and asked if I wanted to be featured on her blog: diaryofabrwneyedgirl.blogspot.com--of course I did!! You can check out my feature along with many other great posts by clicking on the link. Thanks for the opportunity Kimberly! xoxo
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
"My Name Is..."
I was so honored to be asked to write my cancer story for my friend, Jacy's blog. She is an amazing person who has helped so many woman find hope and strength in horrible trials. Thank you so much for the opportunity Jacy! Check out my story by clicking on Jacy's name or going to: mynameisjacy.com.
Monday, February 10, 2014
A New Life
"One day you will wake up and the fact that you have brain cancer will not be the first thing you think about," was predicted by my radiation oncologist about a year ago. I guess he has proven himself to be right since it has been almost five months since I have posted anything in cancer news...the reason?...I'm doing amazing!
I had an MRI back in December that showed almost NO evidence of disease. During this series of appointments, I bid farewell to my beloved 26+ years doc which was bittersweet. He said, "I'm firing myself. You are doing great! I will still be keeping an eye on you at tumor board and feel free to call me ANYTIME." sniff, sniff...I love Dr. Brachman and will always hold a special place for him in my heart. I might meet up with him again--if the tumor grows back and we decide to use gamma ray or another one of his procedures, but both he and I are hoping that won't be the case. For now, he will live on in my heart as my most optimistic doctor.
My second appointment with my neuro oncologist went just as great. She said that if I decided to randomly go and get a MRI from a doctor who did not know my medical history, he or she would not be able to tell that I have cancer. They would see a black hole, filled with spinal fluid, but wouldn't know that it used to be tumor and had been cut out. There is that LITTLE of cancer remaining in my brain.
We still know I have cancer, but the radiation, chemo, vitamin C infusions, supplements and vegan diet I am following have all contributed to my remarkable success. I have cancer, but I don't have A LOT of cancer anymore. My "battle with cancer" hardly feels that way anymore. What I do is a way of life--diet, exercise, vitamins.
I had another MRI last week with similar results to December--no growth, stable, scar tissue around tumor site which prompted my doc to push my bi-monthly MRI's to every 3 months! She is ready to loosen the reigns a little and is confident I will be just fine. I know I will be.
As I reflect back on the past year and half of my life, it is hard to imagine how much things have changed. I have felt the lowest of lows and the highest of highs. When I was in the depth of my radiation and truly felt like my life was nearing the end, in my rawest moments, when nothing mattered but being here with my family, I felt closer to my Heavenly Father than I ever have. He literally carried me through that time as I did not have the strength to do it on my own.
I learned about the power of prayer. I learned that when others pray for you it works. I am thankful for that knowledge and am careful to promise my prayers and do not take it lightly when I do. I have seen prayer work miracles in my life and lives of so many others.
Now that I can stand on my own two feet I find myself longing for that closeness with my Heavenly Father. The battle of "everyday life" has come back. It is a blessing and curse. I'm so thankful to be a mom again...dinner, grocery shopping, laundry (ugh!), sports, carpool, room mom, etc, but the stronger I get, the farther away I am from that vulnerable state. I'm learning to live a new life where I can find a balance between what I used to know and what I have learned. I've been given a second chance that not many get.
Each day I try to focus on what really matters. I'm definitely not perfect, but I am trying. What really matters is returning to live with our Heavenly Father. Plain and simple. I work each day to remember that and try to teach my children the same thing.
Heavenly Father knows very well that I want to live a full life and raise my babies. It would be so easy and ideal if it were to work out that way, unfortunately "He didn't say it would be easy, He only said it would be worth it." I don't make the plans, He does and He's pretty good at making them...now I just have to say it without crying. I'm working on it.
I had an MRI back in December that showed almost NO evidence of disease. During this series of appointments, I bid farewell to my beloved 26+ years doc which was bittersweet. He said, "I'm firing myself. You are doing great! I will still be keeping an eye on you at tumor board and feel free to call me ANYTIME." sniff, sniff...I love Dr. Brachman and will always hold a special place for him in my heart. I might meet up with him again--if the tumor grows back and we decide to use gamma ray or another one of his procedures, but both he and I are hoping that won't be the case. For now, he will live on in my heart as my most optimistic doctor.
My second appointment with my neuro oncologist went just as great. She said that if I decided to randomly go and get a MRI from a doctor who did not know my medical history, he or she would not be able to tell that I have cancer. They would see a black hole, filled with spinal fluid, but wouldn't know that it used to be tumor and had been cut out. There is that LITTLE of cancer remaining in my brain.
We still know I have cancer, but the radiation, chemo, vitamin C infusions, supplements and vegan diet I am following have all contributed to my remarkable success. I have cancer, but I don't have A LOT of cancer anymore. My "battle with cancer" hardly feels that way anymore. What I do is a way of life--diet, exercise, vitamins.
I had another MRI last week with similar results to December--no growth, stable, scar tissue around tumor site which prompted my doc to push my bi-monthly MRI's to every 3 months! She is ready to loosen the reigns a little and is confident I will be just fine. I know I will be.
As I reflect back on the past year and half of my life, it is hard to imagine how much things have changed. I have felt the lowest of lows and the highest of highs. When I was in the depth of my radiation and truly felt like my life was nearing the end, in my rawest moments, when nothing mattered but being here with my family, I felt closer to my Heavenly Father than I ever have. He literally carried me through that time as I did not have the strength to do it on my own.
I learned about the power of prayer. I learned that when others pray for you it works. I am thankful for that knowledge and am careful to promise my prayers and do not take it lightly when I do. I have seen prayer work miracles in my life and lives of so many others.
Now that I can stand on my own two feet I find myself longing for that closeness with my Heavenly Father. The battle of "everyday life" has come back. It is a blessing and curse. I'm so thankful to be a mom again...dinner, grocery shopping, laundry (ugh!), sports, carpool, room mom, etc, but the stronger I get, the farther away I am from that vulnerable state. I'm learning to live a new life where I can find a balance between what I used to know and what I have learned. I've been given a second chance that not many get.
Each day I try to focus on what really matters. I'm definitely not perfect, but I am trying. What really matters is returning to live with our Heavenly Father. Plain and simple. I work each day to remember that and try to teach my children the same thing.
Heavenly Father knows very well that I want to live a full life and raise my babies. It would be so easy and ideal if it were to work out that way, unfortunately "He didn't say it would be easy, He only said it would be worth it." I don't make the plans, He does and He's pretty good at making them...now I just have to say it without crying. I'm working on it.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Nature vs. Medicine
I've known I've had cancer for just over a year now. I think I wrote a post several months ago on the 5 stages of grief that, really, applies to anyone in ANY kind of traumatic situation.
Stage one: Denial. I went through that, but it lasted about 2 minutes considering there were about ten different doctors/radiologists/neurologists telling me there was a large mass on my brain that they believed to be malignant due to the way it lit up when x-rayed with contrast. My only "denial" was the "why me?, this can't be happening, nooooo" I was screaming into Matt's chest or into the phone at Jess through tears.
Stage Two: Anger. Yep. Felt that too. Not angry at Heavenly Father, I promise, but I felt angry that I have to deal with this. I felt angry at myself. It might sound weird, but I feel like we chose our trials in the preexistence and this is just typical me. I always take on too much. Say yes to everyone. Such an over-achiever. So lame.
Stage Three: Bargaining. Praying to Heavenly Father and telling Him that "I promise I will never miss another day of church again (or something like that) if He will take my cancer away." Not going to happen. It just doesn't work that way.
Stage Four: Depression. This is the stage where I got a lot of work done. I wouldn't say I was in your classic depression mode. I was more panicked and anxious than anything else, but those two words fall under the umbrella of depression. The bulk of my depression was during radiation. If you are close to me and talk to me often, you know, radiation is a 4 letter word. The worst, most horrific time of my life by far.
It was bad, but it fueled a lot of where I am today and for that I am thankful. Since I was so weak, I spent most of my time in bed and did research. I read websites, articles, books, blogs, emails, basically anything I could get my eyes on to find out as much as I could about my cancer and, more importantly, what I was going to do AFTER I was done with the standard traditional treatment (surgery, radiation and 1 year of chemo.)
One big change that happened, right off the bat, during my research was that I became a vegan. I am unsure if it was psychological or that meat, dairy and eggs were, in fact, contributing to the cancer in my body (many people argue that they do cause cancer), but I do know, I don't like the taste of those products anymore, do not miss them, dropped 20 pounds quickly and have kept it off and feel better not eating any of that stuff. Am I telling you to stop eating animal products? No, but it has worked for me.
The first change was food and that was only the beginning. I have opened the door to all natural (we are talking homemade, not products that say "all natural" on the bottle) as I venture into this new lifestyle. It is slow and hard. This world has changed so much and it is almost impossible to find anything at a grocery store that is 100% safe to go inside your body.
Okay, I have cancer, is it too late to even try and change anything? Maybe, but I can't think like that. Cancer is like an epidemic these days. Everyone is getting it, no one is immune. Hopefully a cure will come soon. Hopefully a cure will save my life. In the meantime, I have to do something.
Matt and I have spent a lot of time on our knees asking our Heavenly Father what to do next and feel really good about "round 2" of operation beat brain cancer. I'm going the natural route. I have, basically, exhausted my resources with traditional medicine. I did everything they told me too. I believe in everything I've done. My doctor still looked me in the face and told me I have 3-5 years to live. I don't believe this, I won't believe this, but it makes me sad that he didn't add in: "but we know you'll make it longer." Nothing. My other 2 doctors did say they thought I'd live longer, but nothing from my neuro-surgeon.
I spoke to my neuro-oncologist and told her we wanted to go the naturopathic route in addition to traditional medicine and she was very receptive. She even referred me to a doctor she highly recommended certified in natural medicine.
My appointment went really well. He wants exactly what I want--the best of both medicines! He said there should be no reason why someone shouldn't use both to compliment each other. He also guaranteed me he would shrink my tumor more than it already is. We are thrilled! Anyone familiar with natural cancer protocols will know about "vitamin c infusions." I will be getting my first infusion on October 1. I'm nervous/excited. Bring it on. My doc said these infusions do amazing things for my immune system. Should be cool.
Finally Stage 5: Acceptance. Trying to get there. To put this in perspective, if you were to lose a spouse, they say it takes, on average, 5-10 years to fully get over the loss. I accept that I have cancer. I do not accept that I am going to die soon. I do accept that God has a plan for me and my family. That is a massive pill to swallow and is so painful because I have been that child looking at my mother lying in a casket.
I cannot imagine my children having that pain. I hate being the mom with cancer that might leave them behind. It's messy and hard. I'm trying to accept this all because, as you know, it DID work out for me. I'm happy. I'm in love with my husband and our 5 children and we have built a successful life together. I did it without a mom. I will be with her again because of the Gospel. My children will be with me again.
SO, nature vs. medicine? I say both and hopefully that will keep me around a long time.
Stage one: Denial. I went through that, but it lasted about 2 minutes considering there were about ten different doctors/radiologists/neurologists telling me there was a large mass on my brain that they believed to be malignant due to the way it lit up when x-rayed with contrast. My only "denial" was the "why me?, this can't be happening, nooooo" I was screaming into Matt's chest or into the phone at Jess through tears.
Stage Two: Anger. Yep. Felt that too. Not angry at Heavenly Father, I promise, but I felt angry that I have to deal with this. I felt angry at myself. It might sound weird, but I feel like we chose our trials in the preexistence and this is just typical me. I always take on too much. Say yes to everyone. Such an over-achiever. So lame.
Stage Three: Bargaining. Praying to Heavenly Father and telling Him that "I promise I will never miss another day of church again (or something like that) if He will take my cancer away." Not going to happen. It just doesn't work that way.
Stage Four: Depression. This is the stage where I got a lot of work done. I wouldn't say I was in your classic depression mode. I was more panicked and anxious than anything else, but those two words fall under the umbrella of depression. The bulk of my depression was during radiation. If you are close to me and talk to me often, you know, radiation is a 4 letter word. The worst, most horrific time of my life by far.
It was bad, but it fueled a lot of where I am today and for that I am thankful. Since I was so weak, I spent most of my time in bed and did research. I read websites, articles, books, blogs, emails, basically anything I could get my eyes on to find out as much as I could about my cancer and, more importantly, what I was going to do AFTER I was done with the standard traditional treatment (surgery, radiation and 1 year of chemo.)
One big change that happened, right off the bat, during my research was that I became a vegan. I am unsure if it was psychological or that meat, dairy and eggs were, in fact, contributing to the cancer in my body (many people argue that they do cause cancer), but I do know, I don't like the taste of those products anymore, do not miss them, dropped 20 pounds quickly and have kept it off and feel better not eating any of that stuff. Am I telling you to stop eating animal products? No, but it has worked for me.
The first change was food and that was only the beginning. I have opened the door to all natural (we are talking homemade, not products that say "all natural" on the bottle) as I venture into this new lifestyle. It is slow and hard. This world has changed so much and it is almost impossible to find anything at a grocery store that is 100% safe to go inside your body.
Okay, I have cancer, is it too late to even try and change anything? Maybe, but I can't think like that. Cancer is like an epidemic these days. Everyone is getting it, no one is immune. Hopefully a cure will come soon. Hopefully a cure will save my life. In the meantime, I have to do something.
Matt and I have spent a lot of time on our knees asking our Heavenly Father what to do next and feel really good about "round 2" of operation beat brain cancer. I'm going the natural route. I have, basically, exhausted my resources with traditional medicine. I did everything they told me too. I believe in everything I've done. My doctor still looked me in the face and told me I have 3-5 years to live. I don't believe this, I won't believe this, but it makes me sad that he didn't add in: "but we know you'll make it longer." Nothing. My other 2 doctors did say they thought I'd live longer, but nothing from my neuro-surgeon.
I spoke to my neuro-oncologist and told her we wanted to go the naturopathic route in addition to traditional medicine and she was very receptive. She even referred me to a doctor she highly recommended certified in natural medicine.
My appointment went really well. He wants exactly what I want--the best of both medicines! He said there should be no reason why someone shouldn't use both to compliment each other. He also guaranteed me he would shrink my tumor more than it already is. We are thrilled! Anyone familiar with natural cancer protocols will know about "vitamin c infusions." I will be getting my first infusion on October 1. I'm nervous/excited. Bring it on. My doc said these infusions do amazing things for my immune system. Should be cool.
Finally Stage 5: Acceptance. Trying to get there. To put this in perspective, if you were to lose a spouse, they say it takes, on average, 5-10 years to fully get over the loss. I accept that I have cancer. I do not accept that I am going to die soon. I do accept that God has a plan for me and my family. That is a massive pill to swallow and is so painful because I have been that child looking at my mother lying in a casket.
I cannot imagine my children having that pain. I hate being the mom with cancer that might leave them behind. It's messy and hard. I'm trying to accept this all because, as you know, it DID work out for me. I'm happy. I'm in love with my husband and our 5 children and we have built a successful life together. I did it without a mom. I will be with her again because of the Gospel. My children will be with me again.
SO, nature vs. medicine? I say both and hopefully that will keep me around a long time.
Friday, August 16, 2013
August 12, 2013
Has it really been a year? Could a year feel like a blink of an eye on one hand yet 100 years on another? My emotions have been running on overdrive the past few weeks...this brain tumor diagnosis did not choose a good time of year to happen ;). My birthday is July 29, so I feel like there has been a lot of attention on me. Usually this isn't something I mind a whole lot, but when I feel like I could slump over into a ball and ugly cry for hours at any given moment...attention is the last thing I need or want.
My family and I decided to release balloons each year on my birthday. One balloon per family member, per year. This year I am one (I guess there are some perks to getting cancer!) Next year each family member will have 2 balloons and since I plan to live a long time, that sky is going to be covered before we know it (Matt and I might have to rethink it then!) Before we released the balloons each member of my family made a wish for me:
Wade: "I hope that the medicine will work and mom will live until she is elderly and die because of that and not because of cancer."
Seth: "I wish that the medicine will work and mom will feel better."
Trent: "I wish that mom will feel better and Taylor (our nanny) can work more days at the Sno Shack."
Rylee: "I wish those kids need to stop laughing." [mean brothers!!]
Matt: "I wish for a cure for cancer."
...and then we let those wishes fly.
The next day I had a MRI and the results came back fantastic! My neuro-oncologist says the tumor is still showing no growth at all and even little shrinkage which is completely unexpected and wonderful. It is the greatest news we could get! Everything is going so well so why do my eyes well up with tears when I type these words?
Everything is going so well, BUT I have cancer. I've said it before...the first year is the worst year of anything. I'll never forget August 11th or August 12, 2012. How could I? The details of those days are cemented into my mind. I've made it through the first year--brain surgery, radiation, most of chemo therapy--the rest should be a walk in the park, right? I don't mind standing up, brushing myself off and fixing a problem when I have nowhere to go but up, but cancer doesn't have an up. Just a "plateau for awhile" until you go back down. I think that is why I tear up every time I think, write or talk about my cancer.
My prayers have changed a lot this past year. I have always been thankful for what I have, but didn't realize what I had until it was gone and now it is gone...kind of. I am still here, in a sicker version of myself, but mostly normal, with this prognosis hanging over my head, like a dark cloud, all of the time. I keep trying to be okay with whatever is supposed to happen, but how can you be okay with leaving this Earth when your baby is 5 years old? I spend a lot of my prayers asking my Heavenly Father to help me to be okay with His plan. As painful and hard as it may seem, I do believe it will be what is best for my family. It's hard though.
I'm a pretty black or white person. I don't do grey area--which is not a good thing and is something I need to change. Here is where my faith comes bounding in...it will all work out...it has to. My incredible, talented, amazing, neuro-surgeon looked me in the eye and told me I have 3-5 years to live and I cannot forget that, but I cannot believe that either. I have to take that information and combine it with everything else I have to make a stronger, better me. Use my new perspective to make the most of every moment I have with my children and husband on this Earth because it can change very quickly.
I still cry in every prayer to my Heavenly Father. I thought that would stop or slow down by now, but it hasn't. I'm still very vulnerable and raw, just a girl trying to grab onto something to feel some sort of control. Which, actually, I have started to feel a little of. It's nice to know that I have a brain tumor. Supposedly it has been growing for 7 or more years before I had the first seizure. I like to know I'm doing something to fix a problem and we are definitely doing something ;). I have grown and changed so much as a person and that is a huge blessing as well.
Life is hard. It isn't meant to be easy, but the love and support I continue to receive is incredible. I am very blessed and thankful for it.
My family and I decided to release balloons each year on my birthday. One balloon per family member, per year. This year I am one (I guess there are some perks to getting cancer!) Next year each family member will have 2 balloons and since I plan to live a long time, that sky is going to be covered before we know it (Matt and I might have to rethink it then!) Before we released the balloons each member of my family made a wish for me:
Wade: "I hope that the medicine will work and mom will live until she is elderly and die because of that and not because of cancer."
Seth: "I wish that the medicine will work and mom will feel better."
Trent: "I wish that mom will feel better and Taylor (our nanny) can work more days at the Sno Shack."
Rylee: "I wish those kids need to stop laughing." [mean brothers!!]
Matt: "I wish for a cure for cancer."
...and then we let those wishes fly.
The next day I had a MRI and the results came back fantastic! My neuro-oncologist says the tumor is still showing no growth at all and even little shrinkage which is completely unexpected and wonderful. It is the greatest news we could get! Everything is going so well so why do my eyes well up with tears when I type these words?
Everything is going so well, BUT I have cancer. I've said it before...the first year is the worst year of anything. I'll never forget August 11th or August 12, 2012. How could I? The details of those days are cemented into my mind. I've made it through the first year--brain surgery, radiation, most of chemo therapy--the rest should be a walk in the park, right? I don't mind standing up, brushing myself off and fixing a problem when I have nowhere to go but up, but cancer doesn't have an up. Just a "plateau for awhile" until you go back down. I think that is why I tear up every time I think, write or talk about my cancer.
My prayers have changed a lot this past year. I have always been thankful for what I have, but didn't realize what I had until it was gone and now it is gone...kind of. I am still here, in a sicker version of myself, but mostly normal, with this prognosis hanging over my head, like a dark cloud, all of the time. I keep trying to be okay with whatever is supposed to happen, but how can you be okay with leaving this Earth when your baby is 5 years old? I spend a lot of my prayers asking my Heavenly Father to help me to be okay with His plan. As painful and hard as it may seem, I do believe it will be what is best for my family. It's hard though.
I'm a pretty black or white person. I don't do grey area--which is not a good thing and is something I need to change. Here is where my faith comes bounding in...it will all work out...it has to. My incredible, talented, amazing, neuro-surgeon looked me in the eye and told me I have 3-5 years to live and I cannot forget that, but I cannot believe that either. I have to take that information and combine it with everything else I have to make a stronger, better me. Use my new perspective to make the most of every moment I have with my children and husband on this Earth because it can change very quickly.
I still cry in every prayer to my Heavenly Father. I thought that would stop or slow down by now, but it hasn't. I'm still very vulnerable and raw, just a girl trying to grab onto something to feel some sort of control. Which, actually, I have started to feel a little of. It's nice to know that I have a brain tumor. Supposedly it has been growing for 7 or more years before I had the first seizure. I like to know I'm doing something to fix a problem and we are definitely doing something ;). I have grown and changed so much as a person and that is a huge blessing as well.
Life is hard. It isn't meant to be easy, but the love and support I continue to receive is incredible. I am very blessed and thankful for it.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Scared
Summer is finally here! School is out, there are no schedules, no practices to attend, nothing really to do other than swelter in the Phoenix heat :). This is the part of the year where I usually take advantage of our non-scheduled life and schedule it up with vacations, activities and fun. Instead of feeling excited, though, I find myself feeling an immense amount of anxiety for the summer.
The memories of last summer came flooding back as I was preparing the "end of year" teacher gifts. I can remember so many details of last summer, it feels like only yesterday. I remember what we did, how I felt, what I wore, what my kids wore, what we did on this day, what we did on that day, what we ate, where we ate. Last summer flew by and it ended with the worst possible news I could ever imagine.
I am, surprisingly, still very raw and unsettled from the news of my diagnosis. You would think after a year it would have sunk in a little more, but I think of the doctor coming into my hospital room and telling me I have a brain tumor and tears immediately stream down my face. I think of screaming and looking over Matt. I think of holding onto to him. I think of calling Jess and crying and saying "no, no, no" over and over again with her. I remember like it was yesterday. I am surprised at how much it still emotionally affects me today.
I know with any tragedy, time makes it better and a year certainly isn't long enough to make much of a difference. The first year is a tester. You get to try everything out the first time with your circumstance. With my mom, it was obviously going through everything without her being there and each time it was easier not have her there. Unfortunately it doesn't work that way with cancer.
Time is a double edged sword. I want to time to raise my children. I want time to give doctors and scientists a chance to create a cure for cancer or another drug that will slow the tumor growth even more. The other edge of the sword is, I am told, with time my tumor will grow back and eventually become uncontrollable. It is hard to imagine or even comprehend this happening to me, BUT we have a lot of faith and will keep hoping that it won't be anytime soon. For now the worst is definitely behind me.
Each month when I'm on my chemo I feel sick for about 5 days and I'm all around sick--physically and mentally. Chemo is strong stuff. It definitely reminds me I have cancer. The rest of the month I am building back to my normal self and by the time I'm about to take chemo again, I hardly know I have cancer UNTIL I am harshly reminded. I just finished chemo which may have triggered the need for this blog entry.
Next summer I want to read this post and wonder how on Earth I could have been scared to start summer break :).
The memories of last summer came flooding back as I was preparing the "end of year" teacher gifts. I can remember so many details of last summer, it feels like only yesterday. I remember what we did, how I felt, what I wore, what my kids wore, what we did on this day, what we did on that day, what we ate, where we ate. Last summer flew by and it ended with the worst possible news I could ever imagine.
I am, surprisingly, still very raw and unsettled from the news of my diagnosis. You would think after a year it would have sunk in a little more, but I think of the doctor coming into my hospital room and telling me I have a brain tumor and tears immediately stream down my face. I think of screaming and looking over Matt. I think of holding onto to him. I think of calling Jess and crying and saying "no, no, no" over and over again with her. I remember like it was yesterday. I am surprised at how much it still emotionally affects me today.
I know with any tragedy, time makes it better and a year certainly isn't long enough to make much of a difference. The first year is a tester. You get to try everything out the first time with your circumstance. With my mom, it was obviously going through everything without her being there and each time it was easier not have her there. Unfortunately it doesn't work that way with cancer.
Time is a double edged sword. I want to time to raise my children. I want time to give doctors and scientists a chance to create a cure for cancer or another drug that will slow the tumor growth even more. The other edge of the sword is, I am told, with time my tumor will grow back and eventually become uncontrollable. It is hard to imagine or even comprehend this happening to me, BUT we have a lot of faith and will keep hoping that it won't be anytime soon. For now the worst is definitely behind me.
Each month when I'm on my chemo I feel sick for about 5 days and I'm all around sick--physically and mentally. Chemo is strong stuff. It definitely reminds me I have cancer. The rest of the month I am building back to my normal self and by the time I'm about to take chemo again, I hardly know I have cancer UNTIL I am harshly reminded. I just finished chemo which may have triggered the need for this blog entry.
Next summer I want to read this post and wonder how on Earth I could have been scared to start summer break :).
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